


Fortunate Son

by StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Air Nomad Genocide (Avatar), Death, Genocide, Mother-Son Relationship, some gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese/pseuds/StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese
Summary: The mother of Avatar Aang is a nobody in history. No one will ever portray her in a horrendous play, or create dazzling portraits and statues attributed to her greatness.But she still had to give up her son.This is her story.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	Fortunate Son

**OVER ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO…**

Dema was tired. So very tired.

Her baby boy, her son who she had not even named yet, had gone to sleep in her arms for the first time. 

They were staying at the Western Air Temple at the moment. Usually, Dema lived at the Eastern Temple, but she had been visiting friends of hers when the contractions had begun. And now, after hours and hours of pain and labor, she and her son were finally resting.

There was a loud knock at the door of her room, and Dema froze, waiting for her son to start crying, but he only made a snuffling noise and burrowed deeper into her chest. Letting out a sigh of relief, Dema hurried over and opened her door, tucking her son to her chest.

In front of her were four male Airbenders, three of whom were wearing the traditional robes, and the fourth wearing a plain shirt and trousers. Dema only knew the fourth man was an airbender from his staff, and the way he bounced on his toes, staying in the air for a hair too long to be normal.

“I am a seer,” the odd man said brightly. “I think your son could be the Avatar!”

“What?” Dema said.

“We will test him!” The seer said, turning to shoot the Airbending delegates beside him a wide grin. The trio just looked very tired. Dema got the feeling that this “seer” was perhaps a bit of a crackpot.

“All right,” she said, stepping back to let them in. She would humor this man, perhaps offer some tea, and then send them on their way.

As the men sat down, and Dema readied the teapot one-handed, she decided to strike up a conversation.

“I thought that Avatar Roku was alive and well,” she said as she began to measure out leaves. One of the men leaped up to help her, and she handed over the pot gratefully. “Last I heard, he was still in retirement.”

The man who stood to take the pot froze, and looked over at his companions. They only looked back grimly.

Dema looked between them. “What?” she asked.

The man blinked rapidly, and turned away from her to start filling the pot with water. “I… ma’am, Avatar Roku died last night,” the man said softly.

Dema blinked. “What?”

“He’s dead!” the seer said brightly, seemingly oblivious to her shock. “So we need to find the new Avatar!” He leaped up from the couch and peered at her son with a gap-toothed smile. Taking a deep breath (as Dema cringed away), he offered her a large grin. “Yep, that’s him, all right!”

“Get away from him,” Dema snapped, clutching her son tightly as the other two Airbenders rose to tug the seer away.

The man with the pot set it down and offered a traditional Airbender’s bow. “I apologize for our rudeness,” he said. “I am Monk Gyatso.”

“Dema,” Dema said faintly, too preoccupied with keeping her baby away from the “seer” to say anything else. The other men said nothing, and her baby shifted in his sleep.

“Are you an Airbender, Dema?”

“I… no,” she admitted. “I’m an acolyte.”

Gyatso nodded calmly. “A fine profession.” He turned to gesture to one of the other Airbenders, who withdrew four toys from his robe.

As Dema watched, he set the trinkets carefully on the ground. 

“Usually, it’s a bit more refined than this,” Gyatso said a little sheepishly. “We have thousands of other toys. This is a simpler version of the test, though.” He nodded at Dema. “Now, put down the baby, please.”

Dema clutched her baby boy tighter to her chest. “Why?”

“It’s only a test, Dema. We aren’t going to hurt him.”

Dema looked at her son, who had woken up at some point and was looking around quietly, with huge gray eyes.

Slowly, she set him on the ground, where he lay on his stomach, silent and evidently confused. He let out a quiet whine.

“See, he isn’t the Avatar,” Dema said, feeling a rush of relief go through her. “He’s just a baby.”

“Wait!” the seer said. “Give him a moment.”

Impatient, Dema knelt beside her son and gently stroked his back. He let out a happy gurgle– and started squirming forwards.

Her baby crawled forward, and, sticking the first toy in his mouth for easier carrying, patted the second one, and, babbling happily around the wood of the first toy, grasped a third. Finally he scooted forwards and, dropping all three of the other toys, managed to get his tiny hands around the fourth and final toy.

Dema felt dizzy. 

“That’s not–” she began. 

“It’s him!” the seer crowed, leaping to his feet. “I was right!”

One of the Airbenders was frowning at the baby. “He seems very well coordinated for a newborn.”

“That… that wasn’t a test,” Dema managed. “You gave him toys. He wants to touch them. Eat them. He’s a baby, it’s what they do.”

“He’s the Avatar,” the seer said, for once sounding grave. One of the monks scooped her baby up and off the floor. Away from Dema.

“Wait. You said it yourself, it’s not like the real test, with the thousands of toys–”

Her baby sneezed, and a jet of fire came out of his nose.

Dema stared, stunned.

The monk tucked her son to his chest and bowed to her. Dema just stood there, too shocked to move.

_The Avatar. My son is the Avatar._

“I…” Dema’s mind was spinning far too fast. “Can’t he stay with me?”

Looking reluctant, Gyatso shook his head. 

“War is coming,” he said. “I’m sorry, Dema. Your son has to be trained. We will test him again, when he is a little older, to make absolute certain, but…” he glanced to the side, at the seer. “I think he really is the one.”

“He’s my son. _My_ son,” Dema said. 

“I’m sorry,” Gyatso said again.

“I understand you’ll have to take him someday,” Dema said, “he has to be trained. I agree! But not today. Let me stay with him. Please.”

Gyatso was looking conflicted. He hesitated, and shot a sideways glance to his compatriots, who were both glaring at him. He sighed.

“If it were up to me, I would tell you to take your son and never let him go,” he said. “But I’m afraid it’s not up to me.”

“He will be an Avatar they will tell stories about for generations,” the seer said, like that was any comfort. He made his exit by offering her a too-wide smile before snapping out the wings of his glider and soaring off into the night. Dema was too shocked to say anything.

“Your son is very lucky,” one of the monks said to her as they left. “He will be alright. He will be trained only by the best of the best. The monks will teach him, and train him, and play with him.”

 _But what about me? What about his mother? Who will love him?_ Dema wanted to scream. 

Gyatso put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I will take care of him,” he promised. “I swear to you, Dema, your son will not know loneliness.”

And with that, he was gone.

Dema gazed blankly out of the open door, staring into the cold, empty night with wind rushing through the valley. 

By the time she had the presence of mind to stagger outside with a strangled “Wait!” it was too late.

The Airbending delegates had vanished.

Her son was gone.

* * *

**TWELVE YEARS LATER**

Dema never left the Western Air Temple after that night.

What if her son returned? What if Gyatso returned? What if they didn't know where she was and they couldn’t find her? No, Dema would not allow that to happen.

So she was still at the Temple, twelve years later.

But… well… one night, during the second-worst night of her entire life, everything changed. 

Dema had been meditating when it happened.

She had been shaken out of her trance by the sounds of screaming, and had shot to her feet, adrenaline already pumping through her system. Unbidden, Monk Gyatso’s words from so long ago sprung to the forefront of her mind.

_War is coming._

War, it seemed, was here.

But who was attacking?

She poked her head out the door and got her answer less than a second later when a jet of fire shot past her face. Letting out a shriek, Dema slammed the door again.

What was happening? Why would the Fire Nation attack? The Air Nomads were a peaceful nation. They didn’t even eat meat!

She had to find her friends.

The closest to her was Tsering, an Airbender nun who worked in the library.

Cautiously, Dema opened the door again and darted out into the hallway.

Through sheer luck, or perhaps through a kind spirit, Dema managed to get to the library undetected, dodging Fire Nation soldiers and listening to the screams of her fellows with horror and terror mixed. She stopped more than once to vomit over the sides of the Temple.

_Tsering. Focus. Find Tsering._

Finally, she arrived, the hallways scorched but empty, and found herself in front of a door that looked like it had already been forced open.

_Oh, no._

“Tsering?” she said tentatively. “...Tsering?”

Slowly, heart in her throat, Dema pried open the door to her friend’s study.

“Are you in here?”

Dema crept forwards, taking note of the burned walls and destroyed manuscripts. Everything, it seemed, had been destroyed. The stench of smoke and something else, something unidentifiable and meaty, made Dema’s stomach roil. Finally, her eyes caught on something.

There was a black lump behind the charred desk.

“Tsering?”

Dema came closer, and peered over the desk to get a closer look at the lump.

A burnt, blackened skull grinned up at her, and Dema screamed, tumbling backwards and hitting the ground hard.

Oh, no. No. No no no no.

Where was everyone else? The other Airbenders? 

They must be dead. The efficient ruthlessness that the Fire Nation was known for surely confirmed it.

Or maybe they simply fled. It didn’t matter. The others were gone, either way, and there were Fire Nation soldiers everywhere. 

She had to get out.

Turning away from the heap of charred flesh and bone, Dema ran out of the room and towards the bison stables.

Not looking where she was going, Dema didn’t see the boy until it was too late.

Turning a corner, she almost didn’t register the other person sprinting towards her until he was crashing into her, sending them both to the ground. Almost just as fast, the boy was springing back and moving away from her.

Dema’s first impression of him was that he was very small, too small to be a soldier.

Her second impression of him was that he was a firebender, and therefore very, very dangerous, as the boy whipped his hands out and sent a wave of fire towards her.

Dema jumped out of his reach, snatched up a broken table leg and lifted it high. “Get back, firebender!” she snapped. 

The boy screamed and punched the air. A plume of bright red fire burst from his knuckles, scorching the ceiling.

Startled, Dema toppled backwards, crashing to the ground.

“Are they here?” the boy said as Dema scrambled back to her feet. He had his fists out in front of him, but his eyes were terrified.

“Is who here?” Dema snapped. When he only shook, she took a step forward and watched him leap backwards. “Is _who_ here?”

The boy’s eyes darted around. He moistened his lips. “Is– is the Avatar here?”

He was trembling, Dema dimly noted.

“No,” she said coldly. “He isn’t.”

“He– he–” the child looked dumbfounded. He looked at her, and at the scorched walls. “But– but he was supposed to be here! That’s why Fire Lord Sozin ordered us here! To find him!”

“He isn’t here,” Dema said again. “And I would know.”

The boy just looked confused, and innocent, and far too young, and it was for that reason that Dema wasn’t already running away. “But… but… he was supposed to be fully realized already. I was– I wanted to– I saw the dead bodies, and I wanted– but _we were supposed to fight him!”_

_Fight him._

They were going to fight the Avatar.

And the Avatar had already been fully realized. At twelve. _Twelve._

The Avatar had been being groomed to fight the entire Fire Nation. The Avatar. Her son. Twelve years old now, and a soldier.

 _Your son is very lucky,_ she remembered, and wanted to laugh. 

“Who are you?” she asked the tiny soldier, who was still shaking.

“I’m Kuzon,” the boy whispered. His lower lip wobbled. “I– I saw the dead bodies, and I ran away. I’m not one of them, I swear. The Fire Lord needed everyone he could get. I was drafted, I didn’t choose this. I don’t even want to find the Avatar. I have to find my friend. He’s an Air Nomad. Please don’t hurt me.”

This boy had to be the same age as her son. Her little boy. And he was cowering before her.

“Are you afraid of me?” she asked, setting the table leg down gently.

“No!” the boy– Kuzon– said immediately. Drawing himself up, he glared at her. “I’m a firebender! Not very good, but– the comet–” He scrambled backwards as Dema drew closer. “Stay back!”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said, and hoped that that was true. Moving slowly, she backed away, pressing her back against the wall and allowing him a free path.

Kuzon blinked once. Twice.

And then he was off, running deeper into the halls and vanishing amid the smoke.

Dema stared after him, but she couldn’t stay for long.

Quickly, she continued on her way to the stables.

When she got there, she realized with no small amount of horror that every bison was accounted for. Had nobody else made it to the stables? Had nobody else tried to flee?

She couldn’t dwell on it for long.

Dema hurried to the closest bison, a young male named Fire Flakes, and started fastening reins to his horns. Fire Flakes let out a startled noise, but allowed her to lead him out of the fenced-off stall.

“Come on, Fire Flakes,” she whispered to the bison. “We have to go.”

She led the bison outside and into the smoky, gray air, and to her shock, saw Kuzon heaving for breath on the cliffside, nose running and eyes red.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out when he saw her. He was fiddling with his helmet nervously in an iron-tight grip. “I just– I– I need to find my friend. He’s– he’s an Airbender. I already told you that. I need to…” he trailed off. “We’re not all bad,” he said, and it sounded heartbreakingly plaintive. “I promise. I don’t want the Airbenders to die. That’s not honor. None of this is honorable. I don’t know why Lord Sozin wants that. I don’t know any bad Airbenders.” He sniffled a little. “We were just supposed to find the Avatar, and we didn’t even want to kill them. That’s what I thought.”

“I believe you,” Dema said, and it was true. He looked exceptionally small. He looked like he could be her son.

But her son had had the most gorgeous gray eyes, and this boy’s eyes were like molten gold. He was not her son. Dema knew that.

But she still held a hand out to Kuzon in a silent invitation.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t take it.

And then he tentatively grasped it. There was a tiny smile.

Dema offered Kuzon a leg up, and then leaned into the bison’s huge head, clutching at the reins so hard her knuckles started to ache. 

“We have to stay low,” she murmured to Fire Flakes. “We can’t let them see us.”

Fire Flakes lowed in response and scrunched down, ready to take off. 

Dema scrambled atop his head and checked behind her to make sure Kuzon was clinging tightly to Fire Flakes’ back. Behind him, she could see flames licking the sides of the Temple that she had come to love, and felt a sudden surge of nausea, quickly turning to face the front again.

“Okay,” she said to herself. “Fire Flakes, yip yip!”

And they were off.

“Where does your friend live?” she asked as Kuzon burrowed into the bison’s fur.

“The Southern Air Temple,” he said. “His name is Aang.”

“I know someone at the Southern Air Temple, too,” Dema said, focusing on steering Fire Flakes in a southerly direction. “Two someones. Monk Gyatso, and–” she hesitated a moment, but this was a child, he was no threat, he certainly wasn’t about to tell Sozin anything… and perhaps he knew something. “And the Avatar.”

Kuzon sat up and stared at her with round eyes. “The _Avatar_?”

“Yes,” she said, a little hopelessly. It was a long shot, but: “Do you… know him?”

Kuzon shook his head. “I’d think I’d know if I knew the _Avatar_ ,” he said. “How do _you_ know the Avatar?”

Dema took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “But don’t worry. We’ll find Aang, and the Avatar, too.”

“What if–” Kuzon hesitated a moment, then clawed his way over the bison’s shoulders, slid down, and sat beside her on the head. Once he was situated, he looked up at her with big golden eyes that were suddenly filling with tears. “What if they’re already…”

She reached over to place a hand on Kuzon’s slumped shoulder, being mindful of the golden spikes on his shoulders.

“We’ll find them,” she promised him. “Both of them. I swear it.”

She did not tell him about the charbroiled corpses, or poor Tsering, or the horrible, methodical stratagem that only pointed to one fate for her beautiful, wonderful son with immense power that he never asked for and that took him away from her twice over.

As Fire Flakes drifted farther and farther south, Kuzon eventually fell asleep, a tiny weight curled against her shoulder.

And that’s when Dema let the tears start to fall.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think?  
> :)
> 
> (Edit Oct. 10, 2020: Working on a second chapter from Kuzon's POV, so that will be up soon– hopefully before the end of the year, but we'll have to wait and see (and we all know how 2020 is going- I think it's ruined me for making plans for good!). Until then, I'm leaving this marked as complete because I think this chapter works as a standalone)


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